


Fast Crash and Slow Burn

by RubyFiamma



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamamoto is left to pick up the pieces of a broken Gokudera eleven years into the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fast Crash and Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer : 
> 
> I don't own any of the KHR characters or original story lines. 
> 
> © Akira Amano, Katekyō Hitman Reborn!

You are not a poet, you don't know how to explain things elegantly to give your words a certain ebb and flow. You are nothing but a dumb jock with more brawn than brains. 

That's what he used to tell you. Frustrated and annoyed but the words never cut deep. Before you were lucky if you got a sneer or a scowl even sometimes a laugh, now you don't get anything because there's no expression to his face. It's just blank. 

At some point in time you have to give pause to wonder just where the hell have the last eleven years go? How did you get here? Why does it seem like the years flew by so blindingly fast yet dragged on so excruciatingly slow? When did everything become so messed up? 

You know when and you know why. Everything fell apart after he died. 

Everyone has moved on, it's been a year, except he hasn't and neither have you. You think that's probably why you haven't been able to start the healing process. Leaving him behind all jaded and broken makes you feel guilty. You were able to get through the death of your father thanks to him and Tsuna, but now that he wasn't here there was no one left to console him. 

Not that you could anyways. 

He didn't know how you felt about him, even though you're stupidly honest about everything else. You figured loving him from a distance would be safest. At first it was because you didn't want to put a strain on your already non existent friendship. Then once you became comfortable with each other and learned how well you fought side by side, him having your back and you always watching his, you said nothing because you were afraid of his dynamite he'd definitely throw at you. Afraid of breaking the dynamic between the two of you for the sake of the Family. And now it's because you don't want to drive him further away, even though the distance between you two is less than three feet. 

He's drunk again and standing so close you can smell the stiff whiskey sours and acrid scent of an ashtray heavy on his breath. 

You've grown tired of these nights that you spend drinking with him just to keep a cautious eye on him and make sure he doesn't do anything rash. They're never fun, he never pays attention to you. He's grinds against women on the dance floor or sulks by the bar tossing back drinks like he can't quench his thirst. You watch him though, every move that he makes in case that's the time he picks to finally lose it. 

It pains you to see him like this but you'll take care of him forever if you have to. 

He fumbles with his keys and they drop to the carpeted hallway so you pick them up and open his front door. You hope he'll be alright because he seems drunker than usual but you know this as far as you go. 

As you turn to leave he grabs on to the back of your shirt and tugs you back. You look over your shoulder and his silver hair falls over his eyes so you can't see them. 

"Come in," he says and it's the first time you've heard him string together a coherent sentence all night. 

"O-okay," you stutter, wondering his motive. You follow him inside his penthouse and realize that the place reflects how he's been living his life. Chaotic, with no order and no clarity. 

There are empty bottles of liquor everywhere. Even the floor. The counter had been lined with dirtied empty glasses and cigarette butts. The air in here is stale and suffocating, heavy with the stench of alcohol and tobacco and the familiar smell of nitroglycerin and gunpowder. 

"Excuse the mess, sir. I wasn't expecting company," he mutters amusingly. 

You're not sure if being here is really a good idea. 

Your eyes scan the room and there are several holes in the walls and smears of red from bloodied knuckles and occasionally you can see the imprints of the rings that adorn his fingers. 

There's a glass ashtray wedged in the sixty inch flat screen television he has hung on the wall and you hear the crunch of broken glass and ceramic from various objects under your shoes. 

"Oops," he laughs dryly. "I forgot to tell you to watch your step." 

You open your mouth to say something but you've come this far and you don't want to leave now. He's such a mess, you had no idea and you are so angry with yourself for not knowing. 

Instead you follow him to his bedroom where he kicks off his shoes with comical violence and throws his leather jacket down on the large bed you notice is made neatly. It's doesn't match the rest of the house and you wonder why he made the bed but couldn't sweep the glass off the floor. But then you figure he probably hasn't slept in it, because he looks like he hasn't slept anywhere in a really long time. 

He lights a cigarette and pushes his shaggy silver hair back off his forehead. You stand in the doorway, leaning on the door frame. You don't bother to get comfortable because you know you won't be staying long. 

His eyes flicker to you and there's still no emotion to his face. His usually sharp green eyes are dull and lackluster, like his otherwise lustrous hair. He's noticeably thinner, his cheek bones more prominent and his normally rich, ivory skin is ashen. 

"Come in," he repeats, pulling on his cigarette. Plumes of blue smoke blow out from his nostrils. 

"Gokudera... I... think I should just go home, and maybe you should try to get some sleep. I can bring you some breakfast and coffee in the morning, if you'd like." 

He blinks at you and takes another drag on his cigarette. "No," he says. "I want you to stay." 

You're floored by the suggestion and it makes your heart race but you know it's just the alcohol talking. 

"All... alright. How about I draw you a bath and clean up the place then?" you ask, trying to disract yourself from the fact that you're standing in his bedroom and he's just asked you to stay. 

He cocks a silver brow and flicks the ash from cigarette on the floor nonchalantly. "Are you trying to piss me off?" he asks. 

You shake your head and offer your hands up in defense. 'N-no, I just-" 

"Then shut up and come in. Sit." He jabs a thumb behind him gesturing to the bed. 

You look at him in puzzlement but oblige because you don't want to leave. You don't want to make him angry. You want to know what's going on in his head. 

He turns to face you and there's a shift in his eyes that suddenly makes you uneasy. He unbuttons his dress shirt, cigarette still smoldering and you draw in a sharp breath. He's watching your reaction intently as he shrugs slowly out of the shirt and moves fluidly towards the bed, his jeans riding lower with each switch of his jutted hips. 

Your heart is thudding like crazy in your chest and you don't think you've exhaled that breath you just drew in. 

He's suddenly standing in front of you and despite his pallor you still find him to be the most beautiful man you've ever seen. 

He leans in and doesn't hesitate, catching your bottom lip in his teeth and pulling away slowly. He releases your lip and grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking your head back so that he can lick a hard stripe over your Adam's apple with the flat of his tongue. He nips at your lips again, attempting to coax a response and rubs over the growing bulge in your jeans. 

As much as you're wanting to do this, kiss him back, pull him on top of you and give in to eleven years of pent up temptation, you can't do it. 

"Gokudera... " you whisper in a sad and warning tone. You push him back a little and the shock of your palm touching his bare skin sends a shudder down your spine. 

He stands and crushes his cigarette butt under heel of his bare foot and you wince. He lights another one and pulls on it frustratingly.

"I must be running out of luck cause you're just not drunk enough to fuck," he sneers behind his cigarette. 

Hearing him verbalize those last few words would have drove you insane in any other circumstance. However now they sound like they're meant to be hurtful because he says them with disgust and disapproval. 

You don't understand what kind of game he's playing at but you know he'll regret this in the morning. He doesn't even like you, you remind yourself Why does he want to sleep with you? 

You slowly raise off the bed. "Gokudera, I think I should-"

"Sit down!" he demands. "Why won't you fuck me? Am I not good enough for you, bastard?" 

"What?" you ask surprisingly, because he is good enough for you, he's everything you've ever wanted but you can't tell him. He won't remember those words in the morning and if he does, they won't matter to him. "It's not that, I... I... "

He takes another drag of this cigarette, the grey tendrils of the smoke curl up around his face and he steps towards you. He looks down at you sitting stupidly dumbfounded on his bed and seductively traces his protuberant collar bone with the fingers that hold his cigarette. 

"C'mon, Takeshi," he croons. "You want me, don't you? I know that you do," he says smugly. 

You are startled because how did he even know? You've never once hinted to him any idea in the slightest. You were too afraid to. "How... how-" 

He quirks his mouth into a lazy and arrogant smirk. "I see the way you watch me. I feel your eyes on me burning into my flesh all the time. I hear the way your heart pounds when I'm close and you're the only one stupid enough to stay wallowing in this shit life with me even though you could have moved on. I'm not an idiot like you are." 

You're speechless so he takes it as a cue to move forward with his ministrations, wrapping a hand around your throat while he licks and bites your ear. 

"I need this," he whispers. "I can't feel anything. Just fuck me so that I can feel something... Isn't this what you've always wanted, Takeshi? Me... my body? To fuck me?" His voice is harsh and desperate, but not in the way you want it to be. 

He isn't desperate for you. He's desperate for pain, desperate to feel something other than numbness, he's desperate to chase away the rotting inside him or just forget about it for a little while because alcohol probably no longer has that effect. 

The heat of his tongue has got you weak in the knees but you can't give in, you have to leave now. You have to leave because if you go through with it, he'll hate you afterwards. He'll be disgusted and he will avoid you.

You place your hands on his shoulders, your olive skin is such a stark contrast to his and you push just hard enough so that you can look him in the face. You press your fingertips into his flesh but there isn't much there anymore, he's so bony now. You grip him tightly so he can't turn away. 

"I... do ...want you," you say guiltily. "But... not like this."

He glowers at you but it isn't the fond kind of glare that you're used to. His eyes are angry and cold. He drops to his knees and refuses to take no for an answer as he begins to claw frantically at your belt buckle. He tries to work quick but the alcohol has dulled his dexterity and he fumbles embarrassingly with the belt, sputtering curses in Italian. 

You think this is it, his fast crash into desolation and his rapid fall into madness. You're scared, so scared that once that happens, you won't be able to bring him back. That he'll burn slow like the embers of his smoldering cigarette, a slow burn into nothing but ash, a ghost of the man you once knew. 

You grab on to his frail biceps and grip them tightly and tell him to stop but he growls at you and calls you a bastard, tells you to shut up. He doesn't stop and his hand has finally found its way inside your pants. 

"Stop... Hayato!" you finally scream, shaking him. His head flails backwards, his hair whips around his face. 

When you stop, you still have a death grip on his arms, probably leaving bruises on his skin. 

He stares at you wide eyed, cigarette still clenched between his teeth. He looks so defeated and tired. 

"Why?" he breathes. "Why can't you just do this for me?" 

Your heart feels heavy and there's a lump in your throat. You'd give anything to have your old Gokudera back. Any Gokudera except this irrational, self destructive and disheveled man. 

You raise your hand to cup his cheek and slowly slide your thumb along his cheekbone.

"Because... loving you is so _hard_ ," you exhale in a trembling sigh. "So hard that it hurts and I... I don't want this. You'll hate it, you'll hate me and you'll hate yourself." 

He stares at you and works his jaw. He chews on his bottom lip like he's contemplating something and you're wondering if you've finally gotten through to him or if he's going to punch you like he always does when you become his voice of reason. 

"I do hate you." 

"I know," you say. It's nothing new. 

"I hate everything about you," he says but you notice his words have no venom, he just sounds tired... and a little confused. 

"I know," you say again and release your grip on his arm. Good, he understands now and you think it's safe to leave him alone. You'd like to tell him to smarten up, get a hold of himself but he isn't going to listen to you. The only person he listened to was Tsuna, but he's not here anymore. 

You begin to stand once more when Gokudera opens his mouth again. 

"So why... why does it hurt when you're not here?" 

You suddenly freeze mid-rise and look down at him. "Eh?" 

He's got a profound interest in the carpet and won't meet your eyes, but he lifts a hand and tugs on the leg of your jeans. 

"I... thought you would just leave again ...," he mutters. His voice is so low that you have to strain to hear it and once you hear the words, you think that maybe you are drunk because you can't possibly be hearing him right. 

You sigh and sit back down on the bed, tilting his chin with your fingers to meet your gaze. "You just don't want to be alone, Gokudera. It isn't me that you want, you're just confused. I would have stayed -"

"Don't tell me what I want, don't act like you know what goes on in my head, you bastard. I'm not confused." He still won't look at you. 

You can't be hearing right, maybe this is another sly attempt to get what he wants, to just destroy himself but he doesn't seem to have a coldness to his tone. In fact he seems more like himself, the Gokudera of two years ago. 

"I... hate everything about you," he repeats. "But I... I think I might... lo-mmph!"

You kiss him to save him the awkward and possibly drunken confession he's about to make that he'll probably regret. If its truly an honest confession, you want to hear it when he's ready to make it, in a different moment than this one. 

To your surprise Gokudera kisses you back with a longing you'd never expect. He gets off his knees and forces you back on the bed and you let him, neither one of you ready to part for oxygen just yet. 

You sweep your hands through his hair and he clutches yours. He grinds his hips down in search of friction and you tilt yours to help him achieve it. 

When he breaks free, he's panting and he looks down at you with a smirk on his face but it isn't arrogance. His lips are swollen red and slick, his cheeks seem to have some colour and you smile at him. 

He pokes you in the corner of the mouth and tells you he hates your stupid smile but he says it with a grin on his face. 

That makes you smile wider. "Gokudera, I-" 

"I just don't want to lose anyone else," he says, looking away. "The more I knew about the way you felt the more I thought about you. I thought I was going crazy... I think I am crazy... but... I'll give this a shot." He pauses for a long time and pink flushes his cheeks. "It's what the tenth would have wanted, you know. For us to take care of each other." 

"Yes... he would have wanted that. I want it too, to take care of you."

"Oi, you bastard, don't go deciding people's roles in relationships. You make me sound like a woman, che." 

You laughed like you used to when you were fourteen and everything was right in the world. Gokudera laughed with you and you are so happy that your heart has swollen and is on the verge of exploding. His laugh is the most beautiful sound to have ever floated through your ears. 

He kisses you, long and deep and you give into it. There are so many emotions of you are able to read of his just in this one kiss and it helps you understand a lot more. Nothing comes after the kiss except his arms wrapping around you and him falling quickly into slumber. You're alright with this, you already have more than you could've asked for. 

Before closing your eyes, you silently thanked Tsuna for all the times he's saved your life, starting with the day on Namimori Middle's roof. The last time you thank him his for the final time he's saved your life, right here and now, because Gokudera _is_ your life. 

You smile with thinking that even from wherever place Tsuna is right now, he still has the ability to warm Gokudera's heart except this time, you'll be the one to help him. .

You close your eyes and drift off to sleep, listening to the fast crash of his heart against his chest and the slow burn of air exhaled from his lungs.


End file.
